


Musings

by somethingsintheair



Category: Blade Runner (Movies), Blade Runner 2049
Genre: Gen, Post-Ending, do people read blade runner things i hope so, it's angst i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Where could he go from here?[Big ol spoilers for 2049, if that wasn't clear.]





	Musings

**Author's Note:**

> Something about that last scene really stuck with me, and I had a lot of thoughts about what our boy here could've been thinking about.

The snowflakes melting on his skin triggered a memory. A memory of another snowfall. It was vague, so vague. He couldn’t remember when or where it came from. Only the sight of snow melting on his skin seemed familiar.

That didn’t matter, did it? It wasn’t real, after all. None of it was.

But the initial rush of adrenaline had worn off long ago, and he was feeling a very real pain in his side. The shard of metal was still stuck there-- he could tell, even without looking. He’d been shot at some point, too, he was pretty sure of that. He’d have to check for an exit wound eventually.

K sat still for quite a while, he wasn’t sure how long, before he opened his jacket. All of the movement only seemed to have lodged the thing further into his skin, but he knew he was better off dealing with it after the fact than to be bleeding all over the place in the middle of a fight. 

Without much thought he started to tear off his shirt, but took care to avoid pulling on the section that had been lodged into his skin with the shard. It was really, really fucking cold, and he knew it’d probably be much easier to do this if he went inside, but… well. Who was he to interrupt such a tender moment between father and child?

He let out a breathy, bitter chuckle as he grabbed the shard of metal that protruded from his skin. He braced himself against the railing, and in one swift movement, pulled the object from his side. He allowed himself to sit with the pain for only a moment before he took action to stop the profuse bleeding from his stomach. It took some effort, and a lot more movement than his aching body would’ve liked, but he was able to tie his shirt tightly around his abdomen to cover the open wound.

He exhaled slowly. Carefully. Tried to relax. Tried not to think about the fact that he was coughing up blood earlier, and how he would definitely have to address that later.

But… how was he supposed to go about that, exactly? He’d left what few medical supplies he’d owned in his apartment, and he knew going back there could be much more dangerous than it was worth. And he didn’t want to go anywhere near a hospital for the same reasons. Hell, he didn’t even have a place to rest, other than that cold stone staircase. So… what was he supposed to do? What was the plan?

Deckard didn’t have a home anymore, either, so at least they had that in common. But he’d be fine, wouldn’t he? Because he had something K would never have-- a family.

Oh, right. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that.

Again, he looked down at his stomach. Reached back underneath his body. Felt around until his fingers grazed another bullet wound. Sighed in relief. Adjusted his makeshift bandage to the best of his ability to cover up the bullet holes as well.

After giving himself a quick onceover to check for anything else that needed immediate attention, he was able to relax a little more. Though, he was still fucking freezing, so he made sure to zip up his jacket in an attempt to trap in what little body heat he had left.

All there was left to do was wait.


End file.
